Periphery Cornflowers
by lightofhislife
Summary: A story about one of my favorite people and her romance with Draco Malfoy. T for situations and one use of vulgar language.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Nothing related to J.K. Rowling here is mine.**

The piano's final note slammed in foreboding conclusion to a jazzy melody. The dancer had frozen, smiling tiredly as she absorbed the applause. She breated deeply through her nose, stepping toward the front of the stage. Pulling her wand out, she magnified her voice. "Thanks," she paused to catch her breath, drying her free hand on her black pants. "You've all been super, but I'm tired and I have to go sleep."

The audience chuckled in agreement, several conjuring clocks or checking watches to see the time or yawning in response. A small group of leering wizards were watching her closely, debating as to whether she had used Sacharissa Tugwood's potions to look as she did or was perhaps part Veela. Regardless, she had a striking appearance, not one come across especially often, and when it was present, one could expect vanity as well.

Disappearing behind the curtain, Alli sat down for a moment of rest. A goblet of water was thrust into her hand by the smiling face of her house elf. "That was the best," she squeaked enthusiastically, her voice loud in proportion to her feather-strength body and spidery fingers; despite her apparent frailty, she had Alli's leg trapped in a vised hug. Pops had her face scrunched, eyes the shocking color of Cornish Pixies tightly closed, with her head bowed against Alli's leg so that her parchment-like skin gave the effect of a Mandrake. Sipping the water, Alli put her hand down on the elf's wispy red hair.

"Alright, Pops, I know you liked the show, but please get off my leg." Pops looked slightly offended but obliged. "We have to go," she stated as she pulled on her cloak. A bit too young to apparate, with Pops at her feet, she moved toward the partly rotted wooden door, grayed with dust and age.

"How the bloody hell'd you get in here?" spat a shrunken head bobbling by a pot of Floo powder between the door and the fireplace. "No underage witches, Missy. Dodgy stuff happens 'round this time."

Without replying, she pushed the handle-less door and brushed the dust and smut from her fingertips on her robe. Pops, at her ankles, was ducked over and clutching her toga, tan and covered in cowboys and horses; it was an old curtain.

"It might be a good plan to go back home," Alli addressed pops. "Typically, the professors don't enjoy their students being followed by house elves."

"Yes, miss," Pops sighed, snapping her fingers and disapparating. Wiley curmudgeon, Pops is.

Alli moved swiftly toward the far side of Hogsmeade, eyes slightly glazed from overexertion and under sleeping. After having double Potions and double Defense Against the Dark Arts, she had a plethora of homework to deal with an a tendency toward doing fair chunks of it the morning before it was due. It wasn't to say she didn't prioritize her schooling, she was just busier than she'd sometimes like. Her life could be summarized within these crowds; a man with drooping eyes seemed to be rushing to finish perusing the thick manual on prevention of Doxy infestations, a cluster of girls wearing school colors chattered bemusedly, two people stood in the shadow of the awning outside of Dervish and Banges. They were standing close and, though obscured by darkness, were probably kissing. A throng of people, poorly disguised as Muggles, migrated toward the train station, attracting looks of disgust from Draco Malfoy and his detestable father.

Mariette Edgecomb scowled theatrically before bursting into giggles after being hit with a flock of snowballs by Gianna, a Hufflepuff who sounded suspiciously American.

"Hey there, tree elf," Alli called. "We're going to be late!"

"DAH!" she scowled. "Farewe—" Alli had gripped her wrist and pulled her along, weaving against the current. Gianna smacked into a Slytherin girl with icy-pale eyes against olive skin and hip-length black hair.

"Nice job, half-blood," she hissed.

Without acknowledging her, they pressed on. They were close, indeed, reaching a cherry door just before they would have been considered tardy. Wilkie Twycross stood like a chameleon in front of the white-washed walls, barely visible with the one exception being his brass pocket watch, peeking from behind a white cloak. Alli was amused by this; she could see Gianna imagining him being invisible against a backdrop of snow and being plowed down by a friend on a broomstick. This particular friend, Cassidy, was brilliant in many aspects, but she couldn't, under most circumstances, control a broomstick.

Apparation would certainly be a good thing for her.

Alli was to the left of Hermione, a Gryffindor who was intelligent, if not a little annoying. She was friendly, nonetheless, and was willing to offer help to many people as they needed it. She looked confident in her abilities. Snape would have called it insufferable smugness. In fact, Hermione had caused him to deduct so many points, she had lost them their lead against Slytherin and Hufflepuff just for raising her hand so frequently. Had that girl been in Slytherin, Snape would be the insufferably smug one.

"You are having a checkpoint quiz today," Twycross announced, gazing down his nose at Ron Weasley. "If you can't pass it, you will not be able to move on with the rest of your classmates and you will be delayed in getting your Apparation license."

More than one person hedged at this, hoping to become as wraithish as Twycross; if they couldn't be seen, they couldn't be quizzed. He continued speaking. "Now, so long as you've remembered the three Ds, there will not be a problem. All you have to do is Apparate into the hoop in front of you. Simple," he concluded.

He began on one end, starting with a Slytherin girl, Miss Baxter, who wore bright yellow socks and the skirt from her uniform. The pop of her Apparation was weak but successful. Following her, all were successful, until Twycross stood in front of Crabbe's hoop.

Crabbe scrunched his face and disappeared with a boom like thunder. "Wha-Where has the lad gone?"

Sounds of uncertainty rippled through the watching group. "Erm… sir?" Hermione began. "I think that's his nose just over there…" She hadn't needed to point it out, because a shock and bloody Crabbe pushed the door open, looking as if he wanted to vomit. Looking away, Alli covered the lower half of her face to avoid the smell of the blood. Twycross left the room, reentering the room while scourgifying his hands of blood.

"Right then," he cleared his throat and gestured a hand at Cassidy. She set her face in concentration, taking a moment before popping into the hoop.

"YEAH, BOY!" Gianna hooted in an ironic tone, louder than she intended.

Twycross glanced at her witheringly and proceeded along the line. The last person to Alli's right was the Slytherin girl who had snarled at Gianna. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, unruffled, and Apparated into the hoop without hitch. She smirked and turned her head to look at Alli with superiority. "Excellent, Miss Fatin! Excellent," Twycross enunciated, moving to stand before Alli's hoop, silver metal and glinting. She was nervous but not unprepared.

After a moment of focus, Alli felt as if she was under the force of a rolling pin, her breath pressed out of her. She experienced nothing but darkness and the sensation of swirling. Within seconds, the swirling hadn't stopped, but she realized her eyes were closed. Opening them gingerly, she realized that it was a success.

Twycross made a note on his clipboard and moved along.

Before long, the door was open, revealing even deeper snow, unseasonable for the first of November. Alli tumbled into the snow, squeeing in bliss but immediately regretting it for the ice stuck in her hair and migrating down the neck of her cloak.

Cassidy pulled Allison out by her arm, still tittering at Gianna.

"Oh, come on," Gianna protested lightheartedly, stroking her eyebrow. "At least I didn't lose all of my hair like Ron! I just splinched a piece of my eyebrow!"

"And it looks beautiful, Gianna," Alli replied.

"At least you passed," Cassidy reminded her.

"AH! YES! But if I hadn't, more time to spend with the uber delightful Instructor Twycross," Gianna wiggled her eyebrows to enhance her sarcasm.

"Oh my, yes!" Cassidy exclaimed, ducking a snowball sent at her by Leila, a zany half-veela Hufflepuff who appeared to be aiming for the boy to her left. "Oh, war, is it?" she called. Popping a speckled, circular mint into her mouth from a Honeydukes bag, Leila began making facial indication of coughing, but she produced a noise like fanfaring trumpets and tossed a snowball in the cluster's direction.

"Hello, Cassi—" Dylan, a fellow Hufflepuff, began but was interrupted by taking a snowball to the face. "Oh. Well, that wasn't pleasant."

"Hi, Dylan," Cassidy answered to thin air. He had already disappeared into Dervish and Banges to examine the most recent models of Sneakoscopes. The snowball fight had ceased under murderous of a cluster of girls with murderous scowls; Pansy Parkinson was linked at the arm with Daphne Greengrass. Leaning again a table was Arewa Fatin, air of smugness having left her face since she passed her quiz with distinction. She had a light dusting of powdery snow on her gray coat, remnants of her presence near the barely-over battle. Behind her, Malfoy was exiting the teashop with a dark-skinned seventh year. Both were clutching a cup and the older boy was levitating a tray for the girls.

"Thanks," Arewa purred, accepting the cup that the blond boy handed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling**

"Can anyone tell me what the purpose of the usage of nonverbal spells?" Snape drawled, bordering on exasperation. While Hermione's hand shot into the air like like a Wild-Fire Whiz-Bang, Alli waited a moment before raising her hand. Several students had looked flummoxed since entering the classroom on the first day of that year; among them, the less harassed Slytherins, were serpents who wore cool looks of disinterest. "Anyone?" he sighed. "Miss Fontaine?"

"If your opponant can't hear your attack, they won't immediately see it coming and know how to block or reciprocate," she spouted, her voice a little higher than usual from nervousness.

"Indeed," he answered through tight lips, looking agitated. "If one uses a nonverbal curse, jinx, or charm on one's opponent, the opponent will not see the defense coming before it happens; they will have less of an opportunity to—_put it away_!" he hissed at Seamus Finnegan.

"Yes, sir," he muttered, pocketing a note that he'd been scribbling for Parvati.

"As I was saying," he enunciated. "The opponent will have less of an opportunity to block the spell, perform a counter-curse, or reciprocate in a more effective way. If one's opponent is a particularly skilled Legilimens, they will be able to access all of your memories of previous duels. This would allow for finding patterns, curses you use often," he stared down his nose at Harry Potter. "If you are practiced enough, there will hardly—I thought I said to put it away, Finnegan! Give it to me," he stretched a hand in front of Seamus, who was blushing furiously, visible despite the poor lighting.

Clutching the note in his fist, he tossed it onto his desk. "What I was attempting to say…" he trailed off, glaring. "There would hardly be a need to learn Occlumency for such instances. To be able to successfully cast a nonverbal spell, you must focus completely," he spat the last two words, and again, he looked at Harry with reproach. "If you are doing so properly, you need only think the spell and point your wand."

The entire class stared blankly.

"Well? Why aren't you practicing?" he growled, turning on his heel and disappearing into his office. A few people in the class stood awkwardly with bent legs and shifty expressions. The remainder of the sitting followed suit, people giving each other uncomfortable looks and pairing off.

"Hey, babycakes," Gianna addressed Alli with wild eyes and an intensely forced smiled.

"Hey," Alli was alert now that she wasn't being lulled by Snape's monotonous voice. "Let's work over here," she pointed to the single clear spot in front of Snape's desk. She stood prepared for Gianna's attempt at disarming. The pair stood so close to Blaise and Draco that with each movement of Allison's, her hood brushed against Draco's hood. "Hold on," she whispered, mouthing that Gianna should look as if she were concentrating. She stared up at the door to Snape's office, still closed, and glanced at his desk. "Accio note," she murmured. The crumpled parchment flew into her waiting hand, pushing it deep into the pocket of her robe. "Alright," she nodded.

Eyes half-lidded in concentration, Gianna waved her wand in Alli's direction.

Alli stared down at her wand; it made a soft movement in the direction of Snape's desk. Waving her wand more pronouncedly, Gianna tried again. Alli's eyes went wide with surprise at her wand; with an abrupt jerk, it fell to the floor. She let out a low hoot in approval, clapping quietly before making any movement to retrieve her wand. She turned and tried to spot it on the cool, stone floor.

"Yours?" inquired a cool voice, her gold-flecked wand in his left hand. Alli nodded.

"Thanks," she smiled meekly and accepted it before turning back to Gianna, simultaneous to Draco's movement to turn away.

"Your turn," Gianna sang.

Snape had appeared as suddenly as a ghost, gliding behind students. "Nonverbal, Weasley! That means you don't say it aloud," he snarled. "Five points from Gryffindor."

Nervously, Alli inhaled through her nose, focusing everything within her consciousness on disarming Gianna and pushing Snape's presence over her shoulder to the back of her mind. She held her left arm to point at Gianna's right and exhaled.

__

Expelliarmus… Expelliarmus… Expelliarmus.

The wand was pulled from Gianna's hand; it was yanked to the floor, landing with a clanking thud and rolling until it was up against one of the shelves lining the classroom walls. The shelf contained books with cracked dragonhyde binding and Latin words inscripted across the spines in running ink. Above it, jars that were coated in a thick layer of dust contained blankly staring eyes of various beasts and bits of limbs, floating in some sort of preservation solution.

As Gianna bent down to get it, Allison watched Cassidy disarm Hermione after a single moment of thought. Hermione's hands were empty with a swift motion. She looked taken aback, gasping. Hermione looked flustered and envious when she groped around under Snape's desk for her wand.

"—idditch practice," Harry said, barely concluding a thought to Ron.

"Potter, nonverbal generally indicates lack of need to talk; five points from your house," he hissed, moving to stand behind a Slytherin, the same that was first in line during Apparation lessons, who stood vigilantly succeeding at the task at hand, the wand falling away from Arewa repeatedly. "And five points to Slytherin," he smirked, moving along.

The bells began ringing after only another moment, releasing the students for the evening. "I want two feet of parchment on situations where nonverbal spells could come in handy," Snape called. "Due next lesson, no exceptions. Class dismissed," he tore up the stairs to his office, robes a-billow, and left the students to depart.

"Seamus," Alli called, creeping between the students blocking her way. "Seamus," she repeated and brandished the note before his eyes.

"Oh, thanks, mate," he answered, relieved.

"Not a problem; McGonagall took a very, erm, interesting note of mine once," she answered. "I can only imagine the uses Snape'd have for a note like that."

Seamus chuckled, turning back to Dean and following him in the direction of Gryffindor tower. Alli paused to wait for Gianna, noticing that she already left. Famished, Alli set off in the direction of Great Hall for dinner. It was a day where nothing could get between her and the spaghetti. "Happy birthday," said a voice from behind her, smiling Loony Lovegood. For a moment, Alli was dumbstruck. She had never spoken to Luna before; how could she know it was her birthday? Nonetheless, she smiled graciously and replied with gratitude.

"A free copy," she held a copy of a magazine with bolded rubbish words and flashing colors on the cover vaguely at a distance from Alli's hand. She accepted it, staring down at the title. The Quibbler. Interesting name for certain.

"Thanks," Alli nodded, smile still etched into her cheeks as she reached the wide doors to the Great Hall. As she passed the threshold, Gianna popped from behind the doors, placing a paper crown on her head, she and Cassidy burst into a chorus of "Happy Birthday" with Lauren, an enthusiastic Hufflepuff with an affinity to birthdays. In surprise, Alli's hands drifted to her purple crown, feeling the smooth surface of stickers under her fingertips and chunk of mistletoe fixed to the top as a joke. Behind them, there was a buildup of students, blocked by the chaos.

As their song concluded, Lauren was practically bouncing up and down and the few students who had already arrived for dinner clapped in unison with Dumbledore. The remainder of the students made their way toward their tables. Lauren gripped one of Alli's arms, pulling her too quickly in the direction of the table that was normally occupied by a majority of Hufflepuffs. Ron was sitting in one corner of the table, laughing at Alli's face, as bright a scarlet as her tie. She sat across from him at the plate set for her by Lauren.

"Graffiti spaghetti," Gianna announced with her hand gesturing at the saucy plate. "Eat it, sonny!" She pursed her lips in a comical way and sat down to the left of Cassidy. Lauren didn't seem to want to sit, eventually resigning to the fact that she was not going to be joined in singing anymore.

"So wha—" Cassidy began.

"Wait, wait," Alli interrupted her, standing up quickly enough that her crown nearly tipped off of her head. She flounced around the end of the table, vision partly obstructed by the way her hair was held in front of her eyes by the purple parchment. In her haste, she nearly collided with a small cluster of entering Slytherins.

"Whoa, okay, careful," said the girl from Apparation. "Seriously, I'm uncoordinated enough for anyone in this school. We don't want to swamp Madam Pomfrey."

Allison laughed a little, letting them move past her, followed by Draco Malfoy. He had lagged behind, letting his friends move to the table before he took another step. Raising an eyebrow, he gestured to let her pass. "Happy birthday," he said from behind her, moving toward his table. He must have observed the spectacle. Alli smiled, taking her final steps toward the Ravenclaw table with a slight skip.

"Luna?"

Luna looked up from her magazine, ignoring the food on the table in front of her. "Oh, hello, Allison," she smiled in a nearly vacuous way.

"Do you want to join us?" Alli inquired, feeling bad to see her alone.

"You're sure?" she stood and closed her magazine. Upon Alli's nod, she followed her to the table. "Mistletoe?" her eyebrows were knit at the crown. "You'll want to be careful with that," she warned. "It's often infested with nargles."


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: Nothing related to J.K. Rowling here is mine.**

The Quidditch stadium was arranged like the Colosseum, Draco Malfoy standing at its center with eyes as bright as cornflowers. When the lion was unleashed, it stalked forward with eyes glared in the burning sun. Its head was bowed and bobbing with the movement of its shoulders.

Draco's eyes were wide, wilting cornflowers that fell away and left empty black beads behind. His skin was melting into that of a serpent; he became an unusual snake, one with the ability to swallow the lion whole if given the opportunity. He smiled with a fanged mouth and hissed.

Standing, nearly levitating, Arewa started shouting.

"The time is wrong! You're losing points! You're losing points!"

"What do you mean losing points?" Alli protested, standing and becoming vaguely aware that she was wearing red gloves that reached her elbow, though the heat in this place was immense. Looking down, she began to comprehend that she was terribly overdressed for the occasion—gold dress. She felt confused and peeled the gloves off, tossing them at the ground frustratedly. She hid her face with her hands and fell into a pleasantly cool layer of nothingness. The knots in her chest loosened; as her muscles relaxed, her hands fell from her eyes. The sweltering heat was creeping back, but the brightness was not.

In her hands, she kneaded dough and moulded it appropriately. The singing spilled from her lips, but it wasn't controlled. She had seemed to have lost the sense of control over herself; she felt like she had been tossed into the air and was falling without restraint. The pies didn't need baking.

They just became complete.

Alli glowered in the direction of the door. It was being so awful; opening and shutting tauntingly with no visitors. Gianna traipsed into her vision quickly, carrying a notepad and scribbling at it with a quill with its vanes clumped with dried blood. "Nice, Allison," she scowled. "You aren't making sense; you're going to have to stop acting like one of them. The potion doesn't work if you don't. You can't stir in the wrong direction"

"Who says it's the wrong direction?" a cool voice asked, cornflower eyes and whitish hair.

"It will explode," Gianna's eyes bugged out of her head.

"And if it doesn't?" Alli found herself asking.

"—burst into flames probably," Gianna seemed to be underwater.

"So let the flames begin," he said, arms protective but face hidden from Alli's view. Alli began shaking from the turbulence of the collapsing ceiling but felt not pain. There seemed to be absolute silence in spite of the events unfolding.

Then all she could hear was her own yelp.

It wasn't a yelp of pain but of shock. Disoriented, she'd been jolted away by a house elf that was bouncing on her chest.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pops' happy wail felt deafening. "At this moment precisely, you has turned seventeen!"

When Alli sat upright to try to grasp her reality, she was greeted by Pops, who had a tacky purple lampshade with peeling ivory lace over her head as a hat and a thin green blanket on her shoulders for protection against the cold. The elf had her arms in a strangling knot around Alli's neck and was osculent to her.

"Why are you here now?" Alli groaned in response to her companion.

"Because, Miss, you're of age now!" she held Alli by the shoulder and stared at her appraising. "You's looking a lot older now. Looking so mature," she grinned lovingly, if not sketchily.

"Erm, thanks," she muttered and squinted as her eyes adjusted to being open. "I'm going to sleep now, honey."

"No! You can't! I's got presents for you! You must open 'em!"

"Now?"

"Now!" she pleaded.

"Alright," she sighed, accepting a box wrapped with an edition of the Daily Prophet. Too tired to be neat, she tore at the paper diagonally and slid it down the sides. The box was fixed shut with a small length of string. Alli leaned back to her bedside table and cut the string with her wand. As she opened the flaps, she saw that the box contained some new dress robes and a message with birthday wishes.

"From your parents," Pops explained unnecessarily. "These is from the house elves I know from the kitchens here," she continued. "They wanted to shows you how they like you. That one"—she gestured at the plain box in Alli's hands. "is from Zippy."

"Tell her I said thank you, then," Alli whispered, more awake and alert to the fact that Lavender and Parvati wouldn't be likely to take kindly to being awoken at whatever hour it was with Transfiguration first thing the next day. She pulled the box open and stared at the inside. Though her eyes had adjusted to the dull light provided by the moon, she couldn't quite discern what it was. "What is—er—lumos!"

As her wand lit the box, she was still a little baffle. The box was full to the brim with tan filaments swimming in red. "Spaghetti, Miss," Pops stated plainly. "Zippy knows how much you loves spaghetti."

"Oh, well, wow," Alli breathed. She certainly enjoyed spaghetti but it didn't seem so appealing to eat it out of a cardboard box. Setting it aside, she allowed Pops to hand her another, thankfully smaller, package. She tore the top open and looked, this time recognizing her gift right away.

"From Dobby, Miss; he made you socks."

Alli could tell he'd made them. Though coarsely knit, they looked quite warm. There were four socks, yet not two pairs. There were two, a sickly purple and a bright orange, balled together. The other two were folded together, one with little cats knit into it and one that was covered in fine blue hair. Before she could tell Pops to mention her thanks, two more boxes were dropped onto her lap. Alli unquestioningly opened one; it was a dessert fork that had been working into a bracelet.

"Tell Wrathal that I appreciate it," Alli said, immediately knowing the work of the unfortunate little elf. He limped a bit from an especially unkind student's hex several decades back. Though he didn't allow it to show to most people, it pained him more than it appeared to; Alli had not exactly intentionally burrowed into his mind. She was born with an inclination toward Legilimency. Her abilities were quite excellent, though sporadic in most cases.

"The last is from me!" Pops was practically bursting with joy.

Alli started on opening the package; it was wrapped in some sort of shiny cloth and was long and narrow. As she pulled the cloth away from the box, she saw that the cloth had taken the form of a box to protect the object inside; it was merely a scroll. Unfurling it, she drew in a breath. Placing it gently on the bed, she crushed Pops in her arms and thanked her fervently.

"It's nice to see you so excited," Pops said. "Now, I think you should sleep. You's got a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

"I guess so," Alli replied and waited for Pops to disapparate out. She crawled out of her bed and looked at the walls that were decided to be hers. Hermione had taken the liberty of dividing wall space so everyone had their share of room for posters and such. It was because Lavender and Miranda had had a bit of a spat over who had a certain space on the wall for pictures of their boyfriends and siblings. Though much of Alli's wall was fairly well covered, it wasn't difficult to find space. Moving aside a signed photograph of Stubby Boardman and an image of Cassidy popping her collar, she created sufficient space to fix the painting to the wall.

Pops had considerable talent in the way of art; the image was cartoonish yet beautiful. Alli stared imprecisely at it, too exhausted to focus on any particular part.

She saw her own face was obscured by the costume of a hag; the musical was in essence an equivalent to the Muggle tale of "the Ugly Duckling." It was a comforting thought to her; she had begun in only minor roles. Given that her mother was not magic, she attended Muggle elementary school. She was given the opportunity to be in several musical's that she'd grown to love, musical's like Hairspray. Over time, she accumulated more lines and stage time until she began working during Hogsmeade visits.

That night was terrifying and exhilerating. It was the first time she'd been in something so major.

It was the first time she'd really noticed the blond boy with haughty expression beside two parents who looked much the same.

It was the first time he's really seen her.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling**

"—or does your sister always look like that?"

Seamus' attack was certainly not unprovoked but Alli understood Pansy better than he could. In the bathroom two years prior, Alli was undetected by Pansy and the Slytherin girl who rarely wore matching socks. Pansy cried in the desperate sort of way that could have even made Umbridge seem to be someone one could sympathize with. What she had heard that day made her feel awkward and worse for invading Pansy's privacy because in the back of her mind, she saw the events through brown Pure-blood eyes. Alli felt like she'd violated Pansy in the worst way; she'd stumbled her way into her mind. There was nothing more private than a mind.

Pansy looked livid, murderous, but it seemed like the fabricated variety of hostility. Pansy's eyes seemed too glassy and her hiss too mechanical.

"Fuck off, Seamus."

The words fell, not from the acidic tongue of the girl with chemical eyes, but from ice eyes and a generally mild face turn toward stormy weather. Alli did not growl but stated it like a firm command of a teacher to a disruptive student.

Seamus looked far too shocked to retort; Gryffindors did not direct obscenities at Gryffindors. Gryffindors directed obscenities at Slytherins and the Slytherins reciprocate. But Pansy had no reciprocal. She was not attacked and thus could not defend. Thanking a Gryffindor would certainly earn her a month or so of ostracism until someone else topped her blunder.

She just stood, eyes softening and returning to a sentient appearance, with her expression barely hiding shock. Turning slowly, she left the Great Hall with two friends following at her heels to inquire about her well-being in privacy. Alli just returned her eyes to the Potions homework she'd intended to finish the previous evening; her energy was about totally spent by eight but she still hadn't managed to get to the dormitories until eleven. As her quill scratched across the page, her fork bracelet clinked against the table.

The final students were vacating the room. Alli corked her ink and pushed the rest of her materials into her bag. She left silently. The halls were mostly empty; Ginny and Dean were partially hidden by a statue and speaking in low and hurried voices, voices that connoted excitement and a cluster of first years laughed at a bad pun that Slughorn had probably been told at some point. Given their boisterous behavior, Alli assumed that they had the period free. If they didn't they would probably seem more anxious.

Passing the lot, she set deliberately in the direction of library. Her parchment was mostly full; Everlasting Elixirs weren't exactly a simple subject to write a foot and a half on. Even with her writing a bit unnecessarily spaced, it wasn't full yet. It wasn't as if it was one potion in specific; she could research the most common ingredients used to make elixirs last for longer periods of time. She tried recalling what Snape'd said the previous year. Essence of Mackled Malaclaw could certainly be the ingredient, though it could also be Essence of their venom. In reverie and following a familiar path, she was more than slightly startled when she looked up from the hem of her robes and saw the same vivid cornflower blue she'd dreamed about two evenings prior.

"Dropped your quill," he held it out in his hand, the tawny contrasting to his skin in an unflattering sort of way.

"Interesting move in the Great Hall," he stated simply. Looking analytical, he continued. "Pansy and Finnigan didn't seem to know what to make of it."

"Seamus was going too far," Alli replied nonchalantly.

"Since when has the house divide ever made anyone think there is a 'too far?'"

Alli paused in silence before replying. "If they havn't acknowledged one, they should. Why does it matter so much what colors our ties are?"

"It doesn't so much, I guess," he admitted. Continuing along the hall, they fell into a rhythmic quiet of footfalls and breathing. After the paused grew, Draco seemed to have someone he had needed to speak to. "See you around, then," he said and diverged from her path. Ducking through the entrance to the library, she set her quill on the table adjacent to Cassidy and Lauren, standing to access the contents of her bag easily.

Lauren glanced up and smiled but continued scribbling at her Advanced Transfiguration assignment; McGonagall had been loading them with background information on human transfiguration. She wanted them to be as well informed as possible before beginning something that was potentially so dangerous.

Madam Pince watched the trio down her nose suspiciously but moved along a table of silent Ravenclaws.

When she had passed, Cassidy leaned so her moving lips were hidden by her hair. "Did you see what Blaise Zabini did to Seamus?"

"No, what?"

Alli stared at her parchment and scratched down the beginnings of an introductory sentence when Madam Pince turned in their direction and stalked past them, settling at her desk and burying her hawkish nose into a thick book that was partly restrained for the teeth around the edges.

"Well, he was pretty miffed. Blaise had apparently been practicing nonverbal spells," Cassidy explained.

"Yeah," Lauren continued. "Seamus is in the hospital wing now. He sprouted pig snouts all over his body and they were, eh, oozing."

"Oozing?"

"Madam Pomfrey looked rather hostile," Cassidy noted darkly. "She didn't seem to know the counter-curse."

"When did it happen?"

"We saw it on the way here," Lauren said. "It was like right down the corridor from the Great Hall."

"How did I not hear that?"

"You tend to be remarkably oblivious when it comes to finishing the homework that you didn't do when you should've," said a Ravenclaw named Brionna who dropped a stack of books on the table. "It wasn't really long because Flitwick came in. Blaise was gone by then, though. Flitwick just tried to summon Madam Pomfrey without, er, getting spewed upon."

Alli was revolted. "That's awful."

"Pretty funny though," Brionna said.


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling**

Seamus sat miserably in front of his mirror; he was staring at his own reflection. Alli examined his skin from her seat the row behind him to the left of Lauren. Though Madam Pomfrey had managed to force the snouts to stop oozing and recede somewhat, the skin was uneven and covered with indents like shallow nostrils. Alli look away before he glanced up and would've caught her eye.

"—don't even read the Daily Prophet anymore," Lauren shook her head. "Rita Skeeter is icktastic."

"I tried to read the Quibbler instead," Allison replied. "But it makes me think of Muggle Inquirer magazines. You know, the one that have articles exposing politicians as being lizard people or something."

"Some of it's a bit ridiculous," Lauren agreed.

"A bit? The Rotfang Conspiracy?" to Lauren's confused expression, she continued. "Supposedly the Aurors are trying to take down the Ministry with gum disease and Dark Magic."

Lauren made a disbelieving expression and smiled awkwardly. "I'm certain they are."

"Oh, fo' sure," Gianna interjected from the table in front of them.

"You know I heard—"

"I heard that Professor McGonagall dislikes waiting to begin her lessons. Take your seat, Miss Kelly," McGonagall interrupted. "Now I'm sure you've all deduced there are mirrors in front of you all today. Not for the purposes of examining your lovely reflections," she said pointedly to Lavender, who was examining the placement of a butterfly clip on one side of her head. She stopped fiddling with it and move her hand discreetly from her head to behind her neck. Lavender looked up at McGonagall's stone face, blushing, and McGonagall continued. "Today, we will be beginning to learn self-transfiguration. This particular branch of magic can be immeasurably dangerous. We will be starting quite small. Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"Dangerous how?" he asked, voice a pitch higher than usual.

"There is a certain danger to any magic if not done properly. In this instance, there is a chance of making an irreversable mistake or perhaps causing a very unpleasant effect, much like splinching can be caused by Apparation. You must simply be aware of the processes and limitations behind the transformation you are making."

"Oh," he breathed in a more normal tone.

"Anyhow, I'd like you to begin learning self-transfiguration by changing the color of your eyebrows with only thought. Wands away," she instructed. "As with Apparation, you must all focus all of your energy into the task which you would like to perform."

Alli adjusted in her seat and stared into the mirror. Eyebrows, eyebrows. Her thoughts were focused into the space above her eyes. Let them turn cornflower blue. With no avail, she looked up, face transforming into a brilliant smile and then racking and violent laughs. Ron looked befuddled, an immense handlebar moustache sprouting across his face.

Nearly everyone in the class was staring at him now, laughing joyously at Ron's face, redder than his hair with embarrassment. McGonagall moved over him to give him instructions to remove it without the need to shave. "Back to work," she demanded and sat down. Alli drew a memory from her mind; it was something McGonagall had felt strongly for Alli to have been able to extract the memory from her mind without trying. It was a student, filamentous blond hair, who managed to give herself a full green goatee while trying to achieve the same goal as they were. It must have been years ago because the McGonagall in the memory was not quite so worn looking; she was actually laughing.

When Alli became conscious of a present, she saw Gianna glaring intently at her reflection. She squeezed her eyes shut and envisioned her eyebrows in an unnaturally light color. Within moments, it became so. Her eyebrows, dark brown, lightened into a vertically striped pattern of sickly green and orange. Gianna opened her eyes. "SUCCESS!"

"Hot stuff," Cassidy remarked; Gianna wiggled her eyebrows in response. Though Cassidy hadn't managed to give herself any other color of eyebrows, she managed to fully grow back the one she splinched in Apparation.

Lavender was tittering obnoxiously at Ron's vindictive mockery of Hermione in response to her laughter at his moustache. Alli sighed in their general direction; sometimes she saw her peers go beyond being generally petty and become purely asinine.

Toward Alli's right, Draco stared into the mirror laughing at his eyebrows. "I was hoping for yellow or maybe a dark green," he laughed. "But pink…"

"Hmm," Arewa hummed, her own eyebrows light blue. "Certainly sexy, Draco," she joked and ran her finger across one. She turned back to her own mirror when McGonagall turned away from Seamus, who had managed to singe his eyebrows off without anything flammable but the sheer power of his incompetence.

Alli looked into the mirror again, envisioning her eyebrows blue or any color because it didn't matter so much to her anymore as long as it was accomplished. Her eyes were closed and relaxed. The pressure around her brain subsided at the slow rate and she opened her eyes. The left brow was completely shocking in the envisioned blue. The right was slightly patch but nonetheless sufficient for a grade of E or better. Her smiled reflected brightly and she looked up to see that Lauren had grown a French moustache, purple, that matched her eyebrows. "I'm liking the 'stache, Lauren," Alli remarked.

"Oh, me too, me too," she nodded, raising her hand. "Professor, how do I get rid of this?"

McGonagall moved over to their table. "Miss Fontaine, try to complete the coloring on your right eyebrow," she instructed before turning to Lauren and examining the magnitude of her moustache that was steadily increasing in size.

Alli again closed her eyes and emptied herself of consciousness of all things around her aside from her eyebrows. This time, however, she couldn't open her eyes and saw figures inside of the blackness of her eyelids. She has sunk into someone's memory but she wasn't certain the memory of whom.

"—to join me loyally, obeying my orders without question. To give me your deference and not interfere with my chosen course of action on any matter or face necessary punishment?" asked a voice that had the effect of a dementor's presence.

"Yes, my lord," whispered the figure eclipsed by the shadow of the first.

"The mark," hissed the first figure. "shall be burned into your left arm; the symbol of glory. The symbol of truth. It will notify you when you are required. Extend your arm, boy."

The boy did, pale flesh blue-gray from lack of light. Long spidery fingers ran down his forearm, instituting apparent feelings of torture. The figure fell down the the floor as if bowing, arm still extended and howling in pain. The arm was bleeding as layers of his skin peeled away, revealing blood and blackness. The blackness bubbled away from the bone, reaching the surface as a new skin.

"Straighten yourself and clean away the blood you have shed for me," the voice commanded.

"Sc-scourgify," his voice shook. The blood on his arm vanished and he allowed his hand to fall into his lap, resting with black material hiding a coiling and uncoiling snake.

"Lower your hood, boy," the voice whispered. "You are now a Death Eater."

Alli jerked back into awareness. She felt eyes on her skin and grew anxious that she had been reacting loudly to the tortured screams of the boy in the memory she'd seen. She was uncertain for the first time as to whose memory she'd invaded. The only eyes on her were those of her nearest friends; they looked away unquestioningly when Alli became sentient and reactive once more. Eyes widened, she peered at her reflection, eyebrows evenly and fantastically blue.

"I like your eyebrows," a voice, cool and clear, said from above her.

"Thanks," Alli nodded to Draco. "I think I'm liking this look, too."

"Definitely one you should keep," he joked in return. Draco's mouth remained serious though his eyes danced. A quite fell over them as Draco glanced around her friends' faces to see them deeply absorbed. "Busy this weekend?"

"I'll be going to Hogsmeade," she answered.

"Any particular plans?"

"Nothing much. I need some new quills but apart from that…"

"Fancy a drink at the Three Broomsticks?"

"A-alright," she smiled slightly. Maintaining her poker face wouldn't be easy for long.


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling**

"Practice the motions this evening and we will recommence tomorrow morning," Flitwick squeaked. "And after, of course, Miss Benson's unfortunate incident, she can no longer participate in our chorus. If anyone would be interested in signing up for the spot, hang back after class and I'll give the information necessary to join."

"Alli could," Ron commented innocently but loudly. His words were validated by more than one of Alli's friends pointing in her direction and looking at her with immense grins. A good sport, she smiled a little but turned the color of the emblem of her house. She knew they did it just to see that reaction apart from thinking she truly should.

Lauren was looking at her with a huge smile and her finger still raised. "Come on, Allison!" she whispered encouragingly, not breaking her cracking smile.

"No," she gasped, realizing she hadn't been breathing since Ron spoke.

"You are a singer, Miss Fontaine. We'd appreciate your talent," their teacher piped in as he climbed from his stack of decrepit books. "Actually, we'd be thrilled. Kindly consider it."

Alli mumbled incoherently but Flitwick assumed it was a yes and proceeded into his office leaving the class to chatter as they hoped for the failure of the next bell.

As it went off, Alli darted from the room without waiting, jouking down one corridor and following a cluster of first years into the common room.

The binding popped like the embers within the mantle. Alli entranced by pattern of turning the pages; with each turn the volume surrounding her grew louder. In the midst of reading her book, the images flashing though her imagination were broken by memories borrowed from the students milling about the Gryffindor common room. When so many people gathered, trickling slowly into her presence, it was like a wave swelling until it swallowed a whale. Alli had a mind like a river, partly keeping the thoughts out but overflowing when she became distracted. She saw fleeting instances of fights and kisses and parties; the mood of the memories was light. Most of the people fluttering about were preparing for Hogsmeade and the youngest students were preparing for their day without their elders.

Hermione sat stubbornly with a set jaw, staring at the page of a monstrous volume. "No, Ronald, honestly—just…"

"Hermione! I just want to see it, I won't copy it," he argued.

"Really, Ronald," she gave him a look, shutting her book on a folded piece of parchment and storming up the stairs to the dormitories. She reemerged with her coat over her arm. "We need to get going."

Alli sniffed a little bit, stretching her legs and ascending the stairs to the dormitories. Parvati was ending a braid in Lavender's hair and they giggled simultaneously. Alli dropped her book onto her bed and pulled her cloak from her trunk. Her house scarf was recently cleaned, left with it by the elves. Pulling both on, she exited the Gryffindor dormitories to exit the building. The path between the school and village would be all the more arduous with the weather being so awful. Ducking against the wind, she moved with her mind set on the warmth inside of the Three Broomsticks.

She yipped abruptly at the feeling of someone grabbing her from behind, only to find Lauren, scarf like a bumblebee, with her arms tight around Alli's shoulder's. "MERLIN'S PANTS, IT'S COLD!"

"Mhm," Alli answered and rubbed at her nose to accumulate as much warmth as she could before reaching the villiage.

"I need to go get some, ah, some magical supplies. I'll be at Dervish and Bange's with Julie."

"Yep," Alli sang, turning into a familiarly decrepit door.

Alli sighed in relief at not being able to see translucent puffs before her eyes. Bypassing a table seating Ron, Ginny, Harry, and an unfamiliar Ravenclaw, Alli settled at a table farthest from the door in the corner nearest the fireplace with her raw hands outstretched toward the flames. "Hello, dear," rasped a shrunken head.

"Er…hi."

"You waitin' for someone? Or a pretty girl like yourself all alone?"

"I'm waiting," she answered, unfurling the scarf from her neck and shrugging out of her cloak. Both were deposited in her bag and she straightened her shirt. It wasn't exactly an unusual sort of day for a date. Plenty of couples who were past school age were clasping hands or laughing or trying to eat the other's face.

"For whom?"

"A friend."

"A friend or… friend?" the head wheezed with emphasis.

Alli glared in its direction and turned away to face a seventh year, Leanne, that she met a few times in the Common Room. She leaned on one hand, annoyed looking, at a table set with two glasses. Given that one glass had a significantly lower level of Butterbeer in it, she was not waiting for someone's arrival but their return. Before Alli had time to realize her curiosity as to why, she saw Draco emerge through one door. He was unaccompanied; it looked most unusual to see a boy, pallid as Twycross, who was often surrounded by the thuggish or regal. Arewa out-shined the girls he was normally with; the other girls had the air of regality but not the natural resemblance to a lion that she had. Crabbe and Goyle intimidated for him. Otherwise, he could just as easily be as faceless as the other people she saw and as often at odds with his peers. His face was, however, quite unusual. Apart from being pallid, it also flowed like a well-composed song played faintly on the piano.

"Hello, miss!" screeched a tiny voice from below the table. Pops was below the table with her arms clutching Alli's legs tightly.

"What are you doing here, Pops?" she inquired.

"Deliverin' something to Madam Rosemerta from ya brother."

"Are they dating again?"

"I don't be knowing, miss," Pops' ears flapped as she shook her head. "It was just a box. Could be a gift or itchin' powder. Or both," she chuckled.

"Right… well… I'm waiting for someone, so if you—"

"Sure, miss, sure. I be leavin'. I be leavin…" disapparated the elf.

Alone again, she saw Katie Bell leaving the bathroom examining something. She called out to Leanne, the Gryffindor at the table behind them. "Ready to go?"

"Mhhh," Leanne grunted into her straw, standing to leave.

On the opposite side of the room, Madam Rosemerta had reemerged with a tray for an adjacent table of warlocks. Wiping her hands on her apron, she sidestepped to Alli's table. "Can I get you anything?"

"A butterbeer, please," Alli asked.

"And for your arriving gentleman?" she smiled.

"I suppose you have to ask him."

"Ah," she pressed her lips together. "Mista Malfoy. Back agai—" he shot her a warning glance and she interrupted her thought. "What can I get for you?"

"Whatever Alli got," he replied as he shed his coat and sat down.

Madam Rosemerta nodded and turned on her heel, shambling off to the next room. "Evening," Alli smiled.

"Sorry for my tardiness, Ms. Fontaine," he drawled jokingly.

"You are definitely not forgiven," she scowled with a light air.

"I suppose my luck has run out," Draco shook his head with a mild grin.

"All Hogwarts students are to return to the castle immediately," boomed an amplified voice through the villiage.

"Apparently it has," Alli sighed, rewrapping her scarf around her shoulders and pulling her cloak back up over her. Draco grudgingly scowled and followed Alli into frigid evening air. Students were drifting in the direction of the castle without vigor. Assuming they were being called in for an unusually early curfew, some continued tossing compacted snow at one another and laughing uproariously.

"Draco," Arewa sang. "How are you?"

"Fine," he replied, as if Alli and he were happening to walk side by side rather than walking together. It was about reputation, she understood, but it was annoying. Her eyes permeated the layers of people in her field of vision. Gianna and Lauren were on the fringe of the crowd, looking confused by the ruckus. Alli muttered pardons and bobbed between the dense current. When she reached her friends, they seemed unaware of her presence until Lauren lowered her eyes.

"Hi, Alli," she distracted said.

"Wha---" Alli began.

"Did you SEE what happened?"

"What?" Alli echoed herself in full.

"Katie Bell," Lauren shook.

"I think someone attacked her," Gianna said. "But we don't know, like, AHH! It was awful. She just started convulsing and screaming. It was so sketchy."

Lauren nodded. "I really hope she's okay; Hagrid carried her back to the castle."

The floating feeling in Alli's abdomen took a dive bomb.


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: Nothing related to J.K. Rowling here is mine.**

After the crowd bifurcated, it divided further into streams of houses. Alli followed the curled head of Lavender Brown through the portrait hole at the ushering of Professor McGonagall. The students were herded into the common room and Alli glanced around at her peers. Flouncing in the direction of Parvati, she prepared to let herself be pulled into the gossip mill. While preferring to avoid it, in such situations as this, it was very convenient. She could easily pop in and absquatulate by the excuse of having homework.

"You hear what happened?" Alli sweetly inquired.

"I heard that Katie was cursed," Parvati confirmed. "But not like the fights in the halls. Something really dark."

"Harry Potter thinks it was Malfoy," a girl a year behind said. Alli felt a distinct inkling that this girl was named Miranda but didn't refer to her by name for the sake of avoiding being wrong.

"Harry Potter has also had a problem with him since the first day of first year," Alli stated calmly. "That's really a huge accusation to make without exorbitant proof."

Parvati smirked; taking it as her cue to leave, Alli added that she had to do an assignment and jouked into the girls' dormitories. Retrieving her school bag, she dumped her unneeded books onto the bed and left only some quills and parchment. Quietly exiting, she managed to evade attention. As she passed into the hall, she saw that the castle hadn't yet settled. The masses of people were still pushing in all directions, all but ignoring Filch's exaggerated arm movements. The only empty stairwell seemed to lead to a corridor that Peeves was defacing.

Choosing the lesser of both evils, she ascended into the crowd, pushing through her peers. Cassie and Gianna were still trapped in a circle of Ravenclaws on the escalier above. The fleeting wish of wanting them to be close enough to attract their attention passed into a game plan for escaping the crowd.

"Prefect!" a voice shouted. "Out of my way! Slytherins, that way!" Draco was pulling the Slytherins from the massive crowd and toward the stairwell leading to the lowest parts of the school.

Alli was pulled in that direction by the current, the crowd ejecting her into a painting of Gertrella the Giver. Nearly knocking Draco over as righted herself, she apologized profusely.

"Honestly," he said. "I'm fine."

"Are you su--?"

"Yeah," he straightened himself. "Care to walk with me?"

"Alright," she shifted, one step a lurching movement from a push by a tall Hufflepuff. Silently, she praised all that is holy for not allowing Draco to have been facing her to see it. Alli's steps moved quickly to reach him, her pace leveling as she regained her steadiness completely.

"Bit of a pity that we couldn't stay at the Three Broomsticks longer," he started.

"It is," Alli said, starting to say something witty. She was cut off.

"Zabini and Goyle saw us together." His face was hard. Alli knew what was coming. Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry usually left members of the two houses divided. Too much competition ingrained in the attitudes of the houses for centuries. It was Hogwarts culture.

"Oh?" she tried keeping her tone casual while they strolled down the shockingly vacant hallway.

"Yeah," he said. "Granted, I hexed the pair of them. I don't need their approval to go out with someone. It complicates it, albeit."

"I get it."

"I wasn't going to say that we shouldn't see each other, actually. We'd only need to keep it on the down low."

Alli felt prudent, stopping in her tracks. He halted a few feet from her. "You're sure you want to continue this little…" she struggled for the right word. "…liaison?"

When in doubt, go with the sketchiest word possible. Nice job, Allison, she thought.

"If you're willing, I see no reason not to."

"Yes, then. But when…?"

"Late, obviously, or in a place like Hogshead. That place is basically dead because Rosemerta's is so popular."

"Where's that?"

"On the far end of Hogsmeade," Draco answered. "Where no one ever seems to be walking."

Alli nodded. "So the weekend after next, then?"

"Why not the upcoming?"

"I need to go to Apparating and then I have to work for a bit," Alli frowned. "By then, I'm liable to just sleep for a year."

Draco chuckled. "I understand the feeling."

"I guess I'll see you?" Alli meekly continued. "I was going to the library but…"

"It's fine," Draco said. They stood soundlessly for a moment. As if afraid to offend her, Draco reluctantly moved toward Alli and gave her a brief kiss on the lips. She was again thankful to be partly hidden. The corridor was dimmed as they had nearly reached the end of it; Alli's face had flushed vibrantly red.

Still in close proximity to one another, they jumped apart upon being started by the sounds of cooing and whispers. A large painting on the farther wall was watching them, the three women were peeking at them from behind a relatively small tea tray. The first may have been a man but a quite foppish one. He or she was staring intently. The second woman was tittering and waving her fan at the pair while the third woman chastised the both of them.

"They are not an event to have spectators! Why don't you just vend some peanuts while you're at it?"

"Oh, sure, it was fine when Filch was down here doing—"

"SHHH! Don't let them hear that, look how innoce—"

"Honey, we lived four hundred years ago and we weren't even that innocent."

"We weren't. If you didn't make people vomit in their mouths every time they saw your face, maybe you wouldn't have been so…"

"I DATED MORE THAN YOU DID! And mummy liked me better!"

"Mummy liked the cat better than you!"

Their nattering grew only worse and the moment lost all other potential.

"I think it'd be a good time to leave," Draco said. "After you…" he held his arm out in a sweeping gesture, a caricature of the behavior of Beauxbatons' attendants. Everyone had mocked their mannerisms, even two years after their visit. As Alli thanked him, she stepped by him and moved along to the dormitories, forgetting her need to write letters in the library.


End file.
